Pyromaniac
by Chikin Wang
Summary: [Complete] Freddy has always been the typical boy with ADD, but before joining up with his band, he led a dark life of soot and lighter fluid... The chonicles of a former pyromaniac turned drummer.
1. Prologue

I can't believe it's been over two years since my last SoR fic! I hope everyone enjoys this one!! 

Disclaimer: It's all Mike White's...

* * *

**_Pyromaniac_**

**Chapter I:  
**_Prologue_

* * *

It was a typical day of band practice; Frankie was printing out lists of rules and regulations that had been faxed over from an arena that they were going to play in, the backup singers were humming and warbling to warm up their voices, Lawrance, was practicing his latest Chopin Scherzo on the keyboard, Summer, the manager, was running through a checklist with Dewey Finn (founder and only adult member of the School of Rock), lead guitarist Zack absently strummed chords as he mumbled incoherent lyrics under his breath, the groupies were dawing up new T-shirt designs...

Yes, all was well with the School of Rock except...

"Jeez, Katie! What was that for?"

Freddy, the blonde drummer, gingerly rubbed his head. Apparently, someone had whacked him upside the head with his own drumstick.

"_That_," retorted the brunette bassist, "was for undermining female musicians--_again_."

"I didn't say anything like that!"

_Thwack._

"Hey, watch the burn!"

Katie sighed as she wearily watched him nurse his elbow. "Do I _want _to know?"

Freddy smiled sheepishly. "Er..."

* * *

Okay, so that's the prologue...the chapters will get longer, i promise!! 

'Tis quite cold today...

Freezingly yours,  
Chikin Wang


	2. Aunt Mildred's Computer

Here's chapter two!! It was completely inspired by an especially insane episode of Pottercast when John Noe shamelessly urged the listeners to vote for the show for the Podcast Awards. 

Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure it's all Mike White's.

* * *

**_Pyromaniac_**

**Chapter II**:  
_Aunt Mildred's Computer_

* * *

"Now just help your Aunt Mildred set up her computer," Mrs. Jones told her son as he relunctantly slid out of the Volvo. "It shouldn't take but a few hours."

"But, Mom," Freddy grumbled, "I _did _set up her computer--last week!"

"Well, she wantsher favorite--"

"Only," Freddy interrupted.

"--great nephew to show her how to use it," Mrs. Jones finished with a wry smile. "I'll pick you up in about two hours."

_Two hours? _Freddy suppressed a groan as his mother pulled out of the driveway. _It might as well be two days..._

He turned and slumped up the dravel walkway, preparing himself for the worst.

The glossy black door swung open before he even set foot ont he porch steps. "Freddy!" an elderly lady greeted happily, her arms stretched before her expectantly.

"Hey, Aunt Mildred," Freddy greeted in return, though less enthusiastically, as she folded him into a hug, engulfing his nostrils with her stomach churing medicinal scent.

"Come in, come in," she dragged him over the welcome mat and into the house before plopping him onto an over-stuffed couch. She then bustled off for some refreshments. "I hope you like lemonade. And your Uncle Albert buoght some chocolate biscuit from the store when I told him you were going to visit! Isn't he the sweetest thing?"

"Um, yeah, sure," he replied absently as he glanced around the room, in search of the computer that he had wasted his last weekend setting up...he could have sworn that it was in the corner next to the sewing machine...

Then he spotted it. Oh, it was still standing next to the sewing machine, but both the monitor and CPU had been covered with what he could only infer to be over large tea cozies. He cringed, wishing the bits of technology the best as he got to his feet.

"Aren't they adorable?" his aunt had re-entered the room with a tray overflowing with cookies, chips, and a pitcher of lemonade. She set it down next to the sewing machine next to the computer monitor. "I thought it would give the thing more personality!"

"Hmmm..." he made incoherent but thoughtful sounds in the back of his head before taking his seat again; Mildred may be elderly, but he had see her chase after the paper boy and she was fast.

"Now, young man, I want you to teach me everything about this contraption that has you and the rest of your generation locked inside for days on end."

Freddy suppressed a sigh; it was going to be a long afternoon.

* * *

Two hours later, Freddy finally taught his great aunt the uses of the technological mouse, explained to her that the keyboard was just like a typewriter except more advanced, convinced her that, no, her knitted coverings did not help while looking at the monitor ("But, dear, it's so dark and...ominous! Surely you don't expect me to look at it all day!"), which led to him showing her how to turn on the computer and then a few minutes were then dedicated to Freddy reassuring Mildred that, yes the "black ominious pit of doom" lit up when someone turns on the power button. Now they were beginning on "Icons 101" where he showed her all the desktop icons (fortunately there weren't that many) when his aunt whipped out a pair of knitting needles and started to knit a little "cozy" for the mousepad.

Now, Freddy considered himself a patient person--scratch that, his ADD disproved this belief. He considered himself a _nice _person, but this was proving to be too much. He had homework to do, he had band practice in less than an hour, and he was sure his mother was the one who should have been teaching Mildred, despite the mother's claims of not understanding "that computer nonsense". So he found himself suppressing the umpteenth sigh before clicking on the My Computer icon...thank the God of Rock that this was the last bit...

"Oh, dearie," sighed Aunt Mildred as she looked up from her yarn, "I don't think I'll be able to learn all this by the end of today. Do you think you can come by tomorrow and help me out?"

Freddy stared in disbelief. She hadn't been listening to a word he had spoken in the past half hour or else she would realize that electronics weren't as confusing as most claimed them to be.

"After all, you are my favorite--"

_Only_, he interrupted mentally.

"--great nephew!" finished Mildred as she tied a knot to secure the final stitch. "There, now, let's see how this looks on that rodent pad."

"Mouse pad," he corrected automatically.

"See, this is why I need you to come and help me out!"

_Patience, Freddy_, his mother's voice echoed in his mind._ After all, she is an elderly lady who longs for companianship._

"Isn't it adorable?"

He twisted his face into a grotesquely amused expression as he nodded with little sincerity, quickly reaching to one side for the half empty pitcher of lemonade. His perepheral vision's depth perception, however, caused him to grab the thin air next to the large plastic jug. His hand immediately collided into the pitcher, causing it to fall off the table and land, upended, on top of the CPU.

"Oh, dear," Aunt Mildred looked at the mess mildly. "It's gotten on the CUP..."

The image projecting from the monitor shuddered and pixellated before turning to a strange black-green. Freddy knew before he looked at the spill that something had gone bad.

"Well, I better clean this up," Mildred had set aside her knitting needles and was making her way across the room into the kitchen.

Something sparked, a wire flickered, and an acrid smell slowly permeated the room.

Mildred returned, armed with a mop and bucket. She sniffed the air. "I don't remember putting anything in that makes this smell..." she said ponderously before she began to mop.

The plug sparked, the wire flickered, and the acrid smell grew stronger.

"I have a bad feeling about this..." Freddy murmured as he stared at the CPU.

Sure enough, his gut feeling was realized as strange popping noises started to interrupt the monotonous hum of the computer's fan. Smoke started to trail out from between the plastic covering.

He groaned; he _told _his parents to buy a Macintosh but they just laughed and said he was a kid and didn't know what he was talking about. Obviously they didn't know Leonard, the madly talented boy in his class who was capable of putting together light shows in less than three days...

"Is it...is it suppose to do that?" asked the bewildered Aunt Mildred.

He groaned; he _told _his parents he would screw this up...now the house would burn down and Aunt Mildred will never speak to him again...

Wait, why was he groaning? This was an opportunity of a lifetime!

"Albert!" Mildred called up the staircase. "I think the computer's on fire!"

Footsteps pounded down the creaky oak stairs and a tall gangly man with an impressively white beard leapt in.

"Fire?" he asked, sniffing the air experimentally.

This strongly reminded Freddy of a little white bunny he had when he was younger...

...before it "ran away", as his parents put it.

A fire extinguisher was wrenched out from a cupboard in the kitchen and Albert danced around the CPU, enthusiastically spraying at the smoking plastic. The compressed agent flew Freddy's nose and he leapt to his feet--he never liked fire extinguishers.

When Albert was finally satisfied, the computer stood gallantly in its singed knitted covers and its foamed bits, but Freddy knew it was a lost cause: had the PC been an actual person, it definitely would have wished to melt into the floorboards.

"If it does that, then why wasn't there a warning?" Aunt Mildred pondered aloud.

"What in heavens names happened here?"

Mrs. Jones stood in the foyer, staring at the scene before in shock.

"The computer broke," Uncle Albert said gruffly as he made his way up the staircase.

"Oh, don't mind him, Nancy," Mildred said reassuringly. "He's never approved of catching up with the new generation."

"Of...of course," Freddy's mom said weakly.

"Well, I suppose he's right, this one time," the aunt said thoughtfully. "I don't think I could bear having something so dangerous in my house."

"Of...course..." Mrs. Jones repeated, unable to find the words to respond to this.

"Yes, well, goodbye, Freddy," Mildred embraced him again. "You're my favorite--

_Only_, Freddy's mind grumbled.

"--great nephew. Take care, Nancy!"

"Of...course."

As soon as the car doors were shut, Freddy's mother turned to her son.

"I didn't do it!" he said automatically.

"What did happen?"

"Oh, the computer was so embarrassed when Aunt Mildred decided to dress it in her knittings that it just exploded from embarrassment," he replied with a shrug.

Mrs. Jones didn't say anything; sometimes it was just better to not say anything.

* * *

Well???

Constructive criticism would be pretty good...or anything...really...

Semi-creatively yours,  
Chikin Wang


	3. Guy Fawkes Day

Another day, another chapter...

Thanks to **LiteralLovely** and **Insane and Logical** for reviewing!!

**Disclaimer**: Pretty sure Mike White still owns the rights to SoR...

* * *

**_Pyromaniac_**

**Chapter III**:  
_Guy Fawkes Day_

* * *

The halls of Horace Green Elementary were full of eager students making their way to the doors at the end of an espeically long Friday in school.

"_It's Bonfire Night!_" cheered Freddy Jones as he half-ran, half-flew down the staircase.

The noisy body of students paused in their mass march for the doors to regard this especially loud outburst.

"What's...Bonfire Night?" Jamie Johannes whispered to the person closest to her.

"Search me..." the boy replied.

Freddy made a grand show of things as he bounded down the final steps and gleefully jogged through the crowd. Bookbags and people parted in order to get out of the way of the human bowling ball. The infamous Bonfire Freddy had been set loose.

"Freddy, wait up, man!" Zack called helplessly from the top of the staircase as the blonde bounded through the dark blue double doors with a satisfying bang and a loud cheer. "Jeez..." he grumbled as he fought through the revived crowd, trying to catch up with his friend.

The doors reopened and there stood Freddy in his glowing sphere of glory.

"Hurry up, Mooneyham, before all the fireworks are sold out!"

"I'm sure there'll be enough to go around," Zack replied in an over-patient tone.

"Yeah, whatever--but the good ones, Mooneyham--_they'll_ be sold out."

Zack sighed; it was one of those days. It was just one of those days...

* * *

Freddy accidentally stumbled upon Bonfire Night three years prior to the setting of this story. His mother's relatives in Britain were visiting the family during the end of October. It was a very strange fortnight. His cousin, who was three years older than Freddy, had been apprehensive about hanging out with his "baby cousin Freddy", but ended up enjoying himself thoroughly, especially on Halloween Night. 

"It's not as huge a deal in England," Tom the cousin had explained about the British Halloween as they sorted through the buckets of sweets. "But Bonfire Night's the best!"

"Is there candy?"

"No..."

"Do you wear costumes?"

"No..."

"Then what's so great about it?"

"We build big bonfires in honor of this man, Guy Fawkes, and set off all these fireworks--and we burn little dummies in the bonfires!"

This concept of fires and fireworks fascinated Freddy and he listened eagerly for more details, Tom's recount of his most memorable Guy Fawkes Day celebrations, and watched with shining eyes as the family prepared for the fifth of November.

* * *

Now, three years later, Freddy knew all there was to know about Bonfire Night. When he told his close friend, Zack, about the holiday, the two immediately started to make plans for the annual "build and burn night" (as Freddy lovingly dubbed his favorite holiday...next to Halloween, of course). 

"Freddy, dear, is that you?" Mrs. Jones called from the second floor of the house when Freddy and Zack entered the living room, their arms ladened with bottle rockets, skyrockets, pinwheels, flares, roman candles, firecrackers, and various other commercial explosives.

"Yep!"

Footfalls sounded from the cieling as Mrs. Jones came down the staircase. She was in a well-fitted jade gown, jewels sparkled from her wrists, neck, and ears and a thin layer of makeup shadowed her face.

"Oh, hello, Zack," Mrs. Jones greeted as she descended the stairs. "How is your mother?"

Zack mumbled a few incoherant words as Freddy rolled his eyes.

"Freddy, hon, don't do that or your eye'll fall out," Mrs. Jones said sternly. "Your father and I have to attend a dinner party tonight."

"Oh, okay, have fun," said Freddy as he made his way for the back door, gesturing Zack to follow.

"Dear, I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't want you to celebrate Guy Fawkes Day tonight."

Freddy froze in midstep. "But it's _Bonfire Night_, Mom," he pleaded, pulling on a desperate face as he attempted to clasp his hand.

"Yes, but, you see," Mrs. Jones paused, carefully choosing her words. "Your father and I talked about it and we think it's best for you to wait for us so we can all celebrate together..._tomorrow_...Anyway, your nanny refused to oversee you while you set off the fireworks, so..."

Freddy grumbled inwardly. He _knew _that that Abigal was plotting against him...

"Anyway, so put yout things in the shed and we'll celebrate tomorrow, all right?" siad Mrs. Jones with a sense of finality as she started back up the stairs. "I'll be leaving soon."

The boys waited for the door of her bedroom to click close and for her footfalls to subside.

"So, what're you gonna do?" Zack asked in an undertone.

"Put the stuff in the shed, I guess..."

Zack started in disbelief; never had Freddy Jones--_the Freddy Jones_--ever quietly obey an order or request of any kind.

Freddy was already out the door, across the yard, and resignly dumping his armload of explosives in a corner by the time Zack recovered and caught up to him. He quiety followed suit before respectfully backing out of the small unit and watched as Freddy closed and locked the door. The pair dejectedly crossed the yard and plopped down in the patio chairs just outside the open back doors. Zack watched warily as Freddy stared off into space; he didn't like the look on the other boy's face...

"Freddy, I'm leaving!" Mrs. Jones yelled, her heels clicking loudly on the tile floors of the kitchen.

"Okay, Mom," Freddy called.

"Abby's got the night off, so just order pizza or have the leftovers!" Mrs. Jones voice was now joined by a chorus of jingling of keys.

"Okay, Mom."

"And don't forget to do your homework!"

"Okay, Mo--Mom, it's FRIDAY."

"You heard me!" the creaking of the door to the garage joined in the musical charade.

_Slam_.

_Creak_.

"And don't set off any of those bottle rockets!"

"Okay, Mom!"

A definitive slam.

"Your mom's so..." Zack trailed off, unable to find the right word.

"Weird? Controlling? _Bizarre?_"

"Mom-like."

Pause.

"_Loud _mom-like."

"Shut up, listen," Freddy held up a hand as he strained his ears.

Zack waited a moment before asking, "What're we listening for?"

"Okay, c'mon," Freddy hopped out of his chair, his temporary depression had evaporated and was now replaced with a mad glint.

_Uh, oh..._ Zack thought inwardly.

"We're gonna celebrate_ Bonfire Night!_"

And with that, Freddy was off, bounding across the yard and into the rather large cluster of trees behind his house.

"Freddy...what...?"

"Hurry up, Mooneyham, or all the good firewood'll be gone!"

"I'm sure there'll be enough to go around," said Zack as he got a feeling of deja vu.

"But the good wood, Mooneyham, _they'll_ all be gone!"

Zack sighed; why did he even bother?

* * *

Minutes later, Zack really began to wonder why he bothered. The pair were up in Freddy's old treehouse and Freddy as maniacally laying out tinder, sticks of wood, and two bundle's of chopped firewood.

"See," Freddy explained around a mouthful of matches as he continued to arrange the kindle on the creaking wooden floor, "I overhead the olds talking about going to the dinner party, so I figured they'd do what they did today, so I got these matches from the garage, you know, just in case..."

"Freddy, are you sure this is a good idea...?" Zack trailed off, unable to bring himself to point out the fact that they were in a _treehouse _just a few hundred feet away from Freddy's multi-million dollar house.

The other boy struck the match and wordlessly set the kindle ablaze.

"Quick, grab the tape so we can make stick figures!" Freddy said, his eyes blazing with a crazed glint as he held up a handful of twigs.

"Seriously, man, I think you should've at least grabbed a fire extinguisher or something..."

Freddy's head snapped back and maniacal laughter escaped his lips. "An extinguisher? Extinguishers are for _wusses!_"

Within minutes, the small flame had grown to a fiery beast fiercely licking the air. Zack, who had positioned himself right next tot he entrance, prepared to dive out on a second's notice but still carefully observed his friend's quick progression to insanity as it unfolded before him.

"_It's mine!_" he roared, not unlike a villain of melodramam, his arms raised over his head as he pierced the warm air with his cackles again. "_All mine!_"

"Oh, Merlin," Zack murmured under his breath. He glanced up at the ceiling and down at the wooden floor being licked away by the flames. "I actually have to do something, don't I?"

His thought process was interrupt by the "evil villain laugh".

"Thought so..."

Zack quickly made his way down the crookedly arranged wooden rungs and dashed back to the Jones' residence. He quietly thanked the physical education teacher for forcing him to run seemingly pointless daily laps in class he as dashed into the kitchen, ripped the red fire extinguisher out of the cabinet, and sprinted back the way he came.

The tree was still intact when he skidded to a halt at the base of the trunk. Zack scurried up the uneven rungs and rolled into the treehouse.

Everything was just as he left it; Freddy was still laughing uncontrollably and the fire still blazed threateningly.

"Freddy, this is probably gonna hurt you more than it'll hurt me," said Zack as he held up the short black hose of the extinguisher.

The violent tittering stopped abruptly.

"Zack, what're you--!"

All the contents of the red bottle were emptied on to the fierce blaze.

Freddy twisted his face in horror and he emitted an impressive, resonating, "_NO!_" as he dove for Zack.

"This is for Betty!" Zack yelled furiously.

Freddy stopped in mid-leap, all thoughts of stopping Zack forgotten, "Who's Betty?"

"I dunno," shrugged Zack as the last ember died. "It just sounded...you know, impressive."

Freddy blinked and looked at his surroundings, carefully taking in the charred wooden floor and the fire extinguisher in Zack's arms. He then turned to his friend, his lips pursed. "Okay, Mooneyham, what did you_ do_ to my treehouse?"

Zack sputtered wordlessly.

"Honestly, man, if you're gonna play with fire, at least do it sensibly. _Jeez_," Freddy grumbled as he scooted the pile of debris out of the treehouse with the side of his shoe.

Zack shook his head in disbelief; it was just one of those days...

* * *

Hehhhhh, seems like Freddy has a Jekyll/Hyde disposition...

Well, what'd you think???????

Patiently yours,  
Chikin Wang


	4. The Fire Witch Project

I hope everyone's ready for another blurb about the adventures of flaming freddy!!!

Thanks for the reviews, **LiteralLovely** and **Insane and Logical**!!! You both a wonderful!!

**Disclaimer**: Mike White's pretty awesome; I'm not gonna take credit for his creation…

* * *

**_Pyromaniac_**

**Chapter IV**:  
_The Fire Witch Project_

* * *

"When did Saturday afternoons get so…_boring?_" Freddy grumbled as he lay on his side on a beaten up old couch in his lived-in den. 

"When we got over Barbie Dolls and Make Believe was ruined?" Katie replied as she stifled a yawn.

The pair, along with Summer Hathaway and Zack Mooneyham, was lounging around in Freddy's messy old den, DVD disks were strewn across the carpeted floor. They all exchanged bored looks as Summer slowly sorted through the many disks. She was trying to make the best of things and organize Freddy's disorganized DVD collection.

"I didn't know you had a copy of _Beauty and the Beast_," said Summer in surprise as she held up the disk.

"Little sister," Freddy replied automatically, without the smallest hint of embarrassment.

Unfortunately, Zack's loud snort of derision made the girls think otherwise.

"Mooneyham, shut up," Freddy grumbled.

"Hey, look!" Summer pulled out a case with shadowy artwork on the cover. "I didn't know you had _The Blair Witch Project_!"

"There are many things people don't know about me," Freddy say with a mysterious air.

"Or don't want to know," Katie added.

"I don't think _The Blair Witch Project_ is that great," Zack commented, his timing being quite impeccable seeing as Freddy and Katie were about to fall into one of their marathon feuds again.

"Oh, yeah, I know, right?" Summer interjected passionately (whether it was to express her genuine feelings about the film or to also stop potential arguments between the pair). "It's so…messy. I mean, the storyline sounds pretty cool, but the execution was so…_mediocre_."

"What, you think _you_ can do better?" challenged Freddy.

"Better than you ever could," Katie shot back.

"Oh, yeah?"

"_Yeah._"

Zack looked at Summer. Summer looked at Zack. They both let out sighs of resignation, anticipating what was to come.

"Okay then, I _will_ make a better version," Freddy declared. He quickly got to his feet and dived out of the room. He reentered moments later with a small handheld camcorder in his hands, an eager spark glinting in his eyes.

"You three are going to be the characters," he said as he motioned at the trio, "and I'll be the cameraman slash director slash producer."

"Then who's the witch?" asked Summer.

"Er…"

"You can be the witch," said Katie as she led the way up the stairs and into the kitchen. "Seeing as you've already assigned parts and everything."

Zack stopped in his tracks, his faced slightly pinched.

"Dude, Zack, you okay?" asked Freddy, who had walked into the boy.

Zack's shoulders shook as he laughed heartily. "Well, if Freddy's the witch, I think this should be called the 'Fire Witch Project'."

Katie grinned in response and Summer chuckled quietly as they all exited the kitchen, leaving a slightly offended Freddy behind.

"Hey, I resent that!"

* * *

"Okay, guys, just run around and do whatever, okay?" Freddy said with a slight air importance. They had decided that it would be more appropriate to film the segments in the wooded area near the park instead of the small bunch of trees behind the Jones' residence in order to not disturb the neighbors with their production. They had to wait for an hour for the sun to start to set in order to give the film a more eerie feel, but the hour turned out to be quite useful for planning. 

"Ready?"

"Yes, ye great ole director," Katie replied in a chipper tone.

"_Action!"_ Freddy eagerly pushed the record button and watched the scene unfold.

"Oh my gosh, Zack!" Summer squealed in horror. "I can't be_lieve_ you threw the map into the river. I mean, come_ on_, you couldn't just throw a stick or something?"

"I wasn't thinking," Zack grumbled as he slowly turned away to mask his frustration and slight embarrassment.

"Well, _that's_ pretty obvious," grumbled Katie. She glanced from the upset Zack to panicking Summer and sighed heavily. "Well, it's not like we can do much about it, can we?"

"Sorry, guys…" mumbled Zack.

Summer stood there, her lips slightly pursed, but was able to keep her harsh words down.

"C'mon," said Katie. "We'll just wander around the woods until we find someone who can help us. Let's just hope the fire witch doesn't find us…"

"_Cut!"_ Freddy yelled.

The trio jumped slightly; they had forgotten that Freddy was filming them.

"We're gonna go into the woods now, and Summer's gonna be the first one who's kidnapped by the witch, okay?"

"Wait, that totally goes against the horror movie formula," argued Katie. "You _always_ take the most flawed person first! Look at _Jurassic Park_, who was the first dude to die? I mean, besides that random dude at the beginning of the movie. The lawyer dude who's more concerned about the money than anything else! So I think Zack should go first!"

"Why me?" Zack asked in protest.

"Because he's the one who lost the map! Anyway, you need to keep the hysterical person around in order to build the drama and stuff! And then you have to keep the level-headed character around in order for the remaining two to try and reason through it. And then you would either take the level-headed one first in order to convey the madness of the situation or take the hysterical after the idiot in order to give the level-headed one a chance to fight against the unknown enemy!"

"Katie…are you just trying to get more camera time?" Zack asked slowly.

"No, don't you guys pick up on this stuff?" asked Katie, genuinely puzzled by the other three's ignorance about her explanation.

"Okay, Katie, just for that, _you're_ gonna be taken out first," Freddy grinned eerily in the fading light. "Now c'mon, we need to get this done before it gets too dark."

Katie glared at Freddy but didn't verbally respond as they pushed through the shadowy wood.

"I think I'll do that branch on fire idea we talked about," Freddy said thoughtfully. "You know, to show that Katie's been taken away by the fire witch. So I guess Katie can be the cameraperson now, since she's not needed as a character anymore…"

"You're the director…"

Freddy laughed evilly. "And I have the power of a fire witch. How freaking awesome is that?"

"_Witch_," Katie pointed out.

Freddy stopped laughing and shot daggers at her. "Why do you always rain on my parade?"

"And why do you always quote Barbara Streinsand?"

Freddy gave a yell of frustration before stalking off in search of the perfect branch to light on fire.

* * *

As he searched, the others went back to filming. Katie as a behind the camera person turned out to be quite the satirist. 

"You guys are in complete hysterics how, so you're really vulnerable and pretty much everything freaks you out now," Freddy heard her going over the next segment of the movie. "So, you run around and see a tree and start screaming and run in another direction and see that rock and scream again and just go from there. Got it?"

The pair nodded.

"Okay, just go."

"Oh my God, Zack, where's Katie?" Summer asked in a hushed tone.

"I thought she was behind you," he said, eyes squinting to see in the shadows of the trees.

"She was."

The pair exchanged looks and realization of the worst dawned upon them.

* * *

Freddy had strayed further and further away from the guys as he gathered leaves and twigs to tie to one end of a sturdy branch that he had found. When he had a sufficient bundle, he tied the kindling on and set it on the ground in order to strike the match. The small blaze came in contact with the bundle on the ground and Freddy hurried back to his friends. 

"What's that?" he heard Zack ask in a hushed tone.

"The…_fire witch!_" gasped Summer.

The pair's screams echoed through the forest.

"Okay, okay, _cut!_" Katie called. She looked around the wooded area. "Okay, Freddy, you can put out the fire now, we won't need it for a while."

Freddy grumbled slightly but reluctantly obliged as he made his way back to Katie.

"_Freddy_," sighed Katie, "I told you to put the fire out."

"I did."

"Then why…"

"Oh my God of Rock…"

Freddy looked over his shoulder. There was a small blaze that was spreading across the dry ground of the woods.

"Oh…crap…"

"_RUN!_" yelled Zack and the quartet quickly fled the scene of the crime.

* * *

"Now on to other news. A small forest fire caught blaze at a local park. The fire is predicted to have been the result of this year's dry season and irresponsible campers who have been passing through the area for the past month. No word yet on who started the fire, though." 

Freddy turned off the television and plopped down on the couch. Zack, Katie, and Summer did the same.

"Freddy, dear?"

"Quick, act normal," Freddy hissed to his friends.

They gave Freddy perplexed looks; normal was not a word that existed in the Jones' vocabulary.

"Oh, there you are, dear," Mrs. Jones made her way down the staircase. "Did you hear about the fire at the park? I was worried you might have gotten caught in it since you said you were going to the there."

"What fire?" Freddy asked, feigning confusion.

"A forest fire broke out in the woods a few hours ago," explained Mrs. Jones, her voice a little too light-hearted. "I don't suppose you four had anything to do with it?"

"No, we were just, you know, hanging out."

Mrs. Jones laughed. "I didn't think you did. But you know, you should go help out with the cleanup tomorrow, you know, since you don't have anything to do tomorrow."

Freddy made some rather vague noises in the back of his throat, trying to sound agreeable without actually committing to anything at the same time.

"I thought so," Mrs. Jones smiled sweetly. "Well, let me know if you need anything."

As soon as her footsteps faded and the door shut with a decisive click, Zack pounced on the same thing they were all thinking.

"She knows."

"Stupid mother intuition," grumbled Freddy.

"Well, I have to admit," Summer said to Katie, "there really isn't a dull day around the Jones' place..."

* * *

This chapter had a slightly clumsy construction. I wanted to do both the film and Freddy's narration at the same time, but it proved to be more difficult than I expected. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this one—though it was a little tamer than the last one. 

Katie turned out to be a bit more...sassier? Yes, sassier than expected. And Summer was a little bit meeker than usual. Sorry, guys, I'll work on it!

Any ideas, criticism, or comments?? Leave it in a review!

Sleepily yours,  
Chikin Wang


	5. The PETF

I died yesterday after taking the SATs and was revived today, so I decided to use my time productively and study…but ended up writing this chapter…

Thanks to **Gabwr** and **Insane and Logical** for reviewing!! Thanks for taking the time out to read this random fic!!

**Disclaimer**: Mike White deserves all the credit, guys, not the infamous Chikin Wang…

* * *

_**Pyromaniac**_

** Chapter V**:  
_The PETF  
_

* * *

Usually the cafeteria floor, with its mosaic of off-white speckles and tan flecks, was not a spot Freddy would choose to stare at, especially during the lunch period. Bits of potato, an occasional lima bean, and a forgotten fork or two joined the drab floor top design during this time of the day, giving the cafeteria both a lived-in and unhygienic feel.

Today, however, was not a typical day. Today was Wednesday.

Now, one may wonder what may cause the fearless Freddy to sullenly gaze at the tile design while his cooling meal (of potato wedges, lima beans, and an unidentified mound of meat the cafeteria ladies called "meatloaf") patiently waited for him at his elbow. He, however, glumly ignored the wafts of the food as he continued to gaze at a downward angle.

Something jabbed him in the shoulder. "_Ouch!_" he jumped, knocking over the Styrofoam bowl of mushy beans.

"We've been calling your name for the past five minutes," Summer Hathaway said briskly as she stared at him curiously.

"Yeah, well," Freddy's voice trailed off as he continued to mouth words, his gaze returning to the floor.

"I told you guys to leave him alone," he heard Zack hiss to Summer. "It's _Wednesday_, remember?"

Such a simple statement usually didn't cause many people to nod their heads vigorously, but this was not one's typical school with one's typical students. Heads around the group bobbed zealously and eyes widened to emphasize the point.

Everyone's except Summer's.

"I…don't understand…" she said slowly, confused by the sudden nodding of the heads. She, of course, did not know about Freddy's unusual quirks since, until recently, their social circles never crossed. Oh, sure, an occasional friend of a friend of a friend knew the two, but they never exactly spoke to one another before the founding of a certain band…

"Freddy doesn't like Home Ec.," Zack stated plainly.

Summer took a moment to process the simple sentence before asking the obvious, "Why?"

"_Because it's not fun!_" Freddy whirled around dramatically, his platter of mystery meat teetering close to the edge of the table.

"Freddy," Katie chuckled softly, "anything that doesn't involve drums or fire is never fun for you."

The others laughed albeit nervously; you_ never_ cross Freddy on Home Economics day.

"But…but there _is_ fire!" Summer said in protest, determined to reason out the situation. "The stove and the oven…!"

"Out of control fire," Katie said emphatically.

"Oh…" Summer sat back, processing the new information.

"You can _feel_ them wanting to break out," Freddy said mournfully, picking at his potato. "But, no, The Man just had to rein them in and force them to do whatever we want." He took a bite of a potato wedge, "It's disgusting."

"Are you gonna start PETF?" Katie asked teasingly. "_People for the Ethical Treatment of Fire_?"

Freddy shot her a dirty look and was about to answer (probably something unpleasant) but the bell rang, disrupting his line of thought. He then groaned loudly and struggled to his feet as everyone else jumped up, hurriedly marched to the tray disposal, threw down their things, and made their way into the busy corridors.

"Freddy, hurry up!" Zack said urgently, glancing worriedly at the clock. "You heard Mrs. Thompson; if we're late one more time, it's clean up duty for the rest of the school year."

Freddy grumbled but picked up his pace in order to catch up with their class.

* * *

"Good afternoon, class!" a plump woman with a wild shock of gray hair greeted them cheerfully from the front of the classroom.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson," mumbled a few select students (except Summer, who chanted the mantra loudly).

"Tut, tut, that won't do," Mrs. Thompson said, feigning disappointment. "Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Thompson," the class chorused unenthusiastically. Freddy spoke through gritted teeth as he stared at the board (concealed by the pulled down overhead screen), waiting for the day's instructions.

"My, my, Freddy, eager to get started?" Mrs. Thompson, who had been introducing the lesson (dessert creations), zoomed in on Freddy and beamed down at him.

Freddy made what he hoped was a polite noise in the back of his throat and hoped she would be satisfied by the wordless response.

"So, class," Mrs. Thompson dramatically traipsed to the front of the room and grabbed the bottom of the screen, "today, we're making—"

The screen rolled up with a snap and curly handwriting appeared.

"Fudge with caramel glaze!" Mrs. Thompson threw her arms up enthusiastically, her bright beam positively rivaling the brightness of the sun's rays. "Each table is going to make a batch of fudge and one pair will make the caramel glaze."

"Three guesses which pair," Zack said in an undertone to Freddy.

"Since Freddy was so _eager_ to get this assignment underway, he and Zack will provide the class with the huge batch of caramel sauce!"

Freddy resisted the urge to roll his eyes; Mrs. Thompson was always capable of manipulating the situation to make it seem like Zack and Freddy were performing a grand feat when, in reality, she gave them the easiest part of the daily assignments in order to avoid having to monitor Freddy's (as Katie put it ever-so-eloquently) "People for the Ethical Treatment of Fire" tendencies.

"Come along, you two," the teacher gestured for them to come to the front of the classroom. "The rest of you, the recipe is next to the ingredient trays are in the back. Chop, chop, let's go!"

As the rest of the class raided the classroom-sized pantry, Freddy and Zack trudged to the demonstration stove and pulled on flowery aprons (their noses wrinkled with distaste) before turning their attention to the laminated sheet of paper.

"Add two cups of sugar and a quarter of a cup of water into a pan at medium—oh my God, she highlighted _medium_," an exasperated Freddy grumbled and huffed before continuing, "—at _medium _heat until dark brown and syrup-like. Then slowly stir in half a cup of cream. One batch for every three pans of fudge." Freddy looked over the edge of the paper, his eye lids drooping, his lips slightly pursed, "She wrote a formula to follow to figure out how many friggin' batches we have to make."

Zack, who was measuring out the sugar into the pan, chuckled quietly at his friend's behavior (but he was bright enough to disguise his snickers with a loud fit of coughs).

"Zachary, are you all right?" Mrs. Thompson, who had just stepped out of the classroom-sized pantry, asked anxiously.

"Fi-fi-fine," Zack continued to fake his coughs (he was on the brink of a laugh attack).

"Oh, no, dearie, no you're not," Mrs. Thompson took his by the arm and led him out of the classroom. "You're going down to the nurse this instant; I can't have you contaminating my classroom."

Freddy's eye twitched dangerously as he stared at the small amount of sugar slowly being dissolved by the water. His hand itched to turn the knob, only inches from his fingertips, to maximum power, but he bit down the urge as he intently stared at the mixture.

"Must…not…" he croaked.

He quickly busied himself with the measurements for the next three batches before a slightly acrid scent rose to his nostrils. He gazed over at the pan; the solution had darkened to a fine mahogany color. Freddy grabbed the cup of heavy cream and unceremoniously dump the whole thing into the pan without much thought. He then turned back to measuring the cups of sugar, his teeth grating slightly.

It wasn't until the pan started to smoke dangerously before Freddy realized he might have done something wrong.

A strange black mound rose out of the nonstick pan, looking very much like cooling lava. Freddy smiled happily; the fire was fighting back! It was trying to liberate itself from Mrs. Thompson's tight grasps.

"Oh my dear, sweet kitchen cabinet gods," roared a voice.

Freddy couldn't remember what happened next; one minute he was standing in front of the stove, silently cheering on the whirling smoke, the next minute he was sitting in the principal's office, watching Principal Mullins talk on the phone.

"Yes, Mr. Jones—"

Oh, she was talking to Freddy's dad…

"—he seems to be fine." A pause. "Yes, well, I suppose you or your wife will have to pick him up then."

"Ms. Mullins," Freddy croaked.

She shot him a look. "All right, Mr. Jones, Freddy will be in my office until you pick him up."

"Ms. Mullins," Freddy began again as she set the phone back in its cradle.

"Freddy, your father's picking you up, but, in the meantime, I want you to tell your side story."

Freddy stared at her; she wanted to hear _his_ side of the story? Since when? Wow…dating Dewey Finn did weird things to people…

"Er…well," Freddy said cautiously, eyeing the principal suspiciously. "I was, you now, making the caramel thing with Zack and he started to cough like crazy, so Mrs. Thompson took his to the nurse. Then _I_ was the one stuck with the stuff, so I just did exactly what the instruction said, but the thing still turned out all weird and stuff. Then…I dunno what happened exactly…"

Ms. Mullins sighed. "I was afraid of that," he heard her mutter. She then raised her voice to an audible level, "You see, Freddy, Mrs. Thompson was overcome by, um, strong emotions and, incidentally, took it out on you. You then went into a state of—almost crazed madness, really—and babbled and did quite a few absurd things. Three teachers had to escort you down here."

Freddy looked at her in surprise; why was it that whenever something cool happened, he was never there?

"So I questioned a few students and have come to the conclusion that Mrs. Thompson acted irresponsibly by leaving the class alone and had no right to take it out on anyone but herself. She has been fired."

Freddy struggled to keep a straight face and refrained from jumping out of his seat.

There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Jenson, the secretary, cracked open the door and stuck her head and the frame. "Mr. Jones is here."

"Right, send him in, then," the Mullins turned back to Freddy. "You may wait in the hallway until I've explained everything to your father."

Freddy nodded before hurrying out the door. His father quickly squeezed his shoulder as he walked past, silently assuring Freddy that everything would be all right.

"Freddy," hissed a voice.

It was Zack along with the whole of their fifth grade class.

"Is it true?" whispered Frankie, a burly boy with short hair.

"Was she fired?"

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," grinned Freddy. "_The fire has been liberated!_"

* * *

I think this has been the most satisfactory chapter so far because I actually planned it out, and Katie got less screen time in this one (which parallels the amount of screen time that Katie gets in the film—what's up with that, anyway??)

So, I think there's only going to be one chapter left in this fic, I'm not sure, though. I have found that writing two fics at one time can be quite…confusing. So I'm gonna finish this one up and go back to my latest HP fic.

Sorry about the very dull author notes!

Any thoughts? Any ideas? Any suggestions? Any…thing??? Please leave them in a review!!

Uncertainly yours,  
Chikin Wang


	6. Fire Beats

I'm so, so, sooooo sorry for not updating since March—school happened, but now I finally have some quality time to dedicate to this fic!

Thanks to **Gabwr**, **Insane and Logical**, and **TheGoldfishAteMyCat** for your reviews!! I hope the three of you and the rest of this small SoR audience enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer**: It's all Mike White's and Paramount's!

* * *

_**Pyromaniac**_

**Chapter VI:  
**_Fire Beats_

* * *

"We need more effects," asserted Dewey after band practice on a drizzling spring afternoon. 

"E-effects?" Marco repeated slowly, his lips stretched out and slightly hooked under at the corners as he hastily shot a glance at his fellow roadie, Gordon.

"Yeah, effects," Dewey nodded slowly as he examined the strings of his Gibson SG. "Something to add to this," he rotated his index finger in a circular motion in order to indicate all the people in the room. "We need something to stick it even more to the Man and make the show ever greater with," he started to wave his arms wildly, "_more_ lights, _more_ smoke, and some fireworks or a bonfire or something!"

"_Yeah!_" Freddy agreed enthusiastically.

"No!" chorused Katie and Zack, eyes wide of worry.

"Aw, c'mon," grumbled Freddy as he sank back in a moss green, overstuffed armchair.

"_No!_" the pair reasserted, now adding death glares to the equation.

"Killing fire," Freddy darkly muttered under his breath. "Fire killers. Killers. Grinch who stole fire," he shook an accusing finger at the two brunettes. "You're the Grinches that stole fire!"

Katie flicked him on the crown on his head.

"What has that for?" yelped Freddy, rubbing the injured spot gingerly.

"Your health," she replied.

Before Freddy could respond, the unmistakable humming of the printer vibrated through the room. Gordon, who had been holding a hushed conference with his fellow Marco, waited impatiently for the paper to slide into the receiving tray before snatching it up and hurrying over to Dewey.

"Here," he quickly presented the paper to the founder of the musical group, his forehead etched with worry.

Dewey accepted the paper as the others crowded around him. Dewey read through it and looked up, his eyes wide with surprise, glinting slightly with pride. "Whoa, guys," Dewey praised enthusiastically, taken aback by the roadies' efficiency. "I mean, I know I said I wanted some new effects but this is…this is really good stuff!"

"I totally vote for number seven," Freddy, who had climbed on top of a chair in order to read the list over Dewey's shoulder, piped in.

Zack politely ripped the paper out of Dewey's hands and, fearing the worst, read number seven. He then looked up and chuckled nervously, "No."

"Aw, c'mon," pleaded Freddy, "it totally goes with us!"

"It goes with _you_," Zack stated firmly.

"What?" asked Katie, who was unable to read the list clutched between Zack's hands. He wordlessly passed the sheet of computer paper to the band's bassist. There was a thickly awkward pause as Katie scanned the page. Then—

"Oh, good God, Gordon."

Gordon, who had been hanging back as he flushed an attractive cherry red, slowly came forward, his ears slowly purpling to face the disbelief of Zack and the impatience of Katie.

"I…" he stammered nervously. "I…couldn't think of anything else?"

"So you write down this thing about drumming on fire so that Idiot Mc-Fire over there can finally have an excuse to cremate us on stage?"

"Hello," Freddy waved his arms widely, clipping Dewey in the shoulder. "Mc-Fire standing right here!"

"Well," Gordon began slowly, "I…think I can rig the oil so it won't get _too_ out of control…"

"_What?_" roared Freddy. "You're going to try and oven the fire? They need to be free! Happy and _free!_"

"Well, we don't want to violate any regulations," Frankie pointed out from his post next to the computer. "After all, we're only playing at local venues right now, so it wouldn't be good if we, you know, burn down the Warehouse 'coz then BDF and Burkitts won't let us play at their places unless we take out al our effects or something."

"So I guess this calls for a compromise?" Zack suggested with an inquisitive raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, let's just forget the drum and light the whle stage on fire!" Freddy stated boldly, his eyes blazing with inspiration.

"I said 'compromise', not 'conform to Freddy's idiotic pyromaniac tendencies'," Zack said sourly.

Freddy flinched, feeling the spark of the snap.

"Well," Gordon glanced over the ideas again, "we could…well, instead of having drums lit on fire, we could have Freddy drumming on paint of something."

"Isn't that what the Blue Man Group does?" asked Marta.

"We can't do that," Dewey stated firmly. "Originality is key in this band; we are known being different!"

"We can do…" Michelle piped up, her hands outstretched for dramatic effect, "food related shows!"

Even Dewey, who usually understood Michelle's sometimes-bizarre antics, gaped at the suggestion. The back up singers quietly murmured to on another about sending the groupie-turned-merchandise-girl to a psychiatric ward. Summer deftly sidled away from the other girl, her clipboard clutched protectively to her chest.

"Care to elaborate?" Gordon suggested weakly, praying that she would be able to justify his idea.

"Freddy can drum on, you know, mustard and ketchup and relish and we could, you know have specially designed hotdogs and hamburgers—veggie and soy for Marta's people," she added hurriedly at the prompt of a loud cough, "and we could, you know, let the people use the drummed on condiments after the shows."

"That…doesn't sound very, um, hygienic," Summer said with as much tact as she could muster.

"I dunno, drumming on mustard seeds sounds pretty cool," Lawrence commented thoughtfully from behind a book. "Maybe mustard seeds'll add more substance and make it more different."

"_Yes!_" Dewey triumphantly threw his arms into the air. "And that is why you're Mr. Cool."

"Mustard seeds," murmured Summer as she scribbled the idea down on her clipboard. "Anything else?"

"Strobe lights?"

"More dry ice!"

"New costumes!"

"No way, I just finished designing those!"

"It's okay, Fancy Pants, we're throwing around ideas right now."

"Puppets!"

Silence.

"Okay, Michelle, you have ten seconds to justify that or Eleni's gonna be working by herself soon," Alicia said through a playful scowl.

"No, I mean like the big dragons that they use for Chinese New Year. We can design one for the chorus of 'Down the Jaws of a Whale' and run around the stage to give it a visual."

"_That_," Dewey began forcefully but paused thoughtfully, "isn't that bad of an idea."

"Er, Dewey," Zack motioned at the man with the heart of a child cautiously. "I need to go now."

"Okay, dude, bathroom's down the hall; you know that."

"I mean, I need to leave."

"What? I have you guys until six o'clock."

"It's six forty-five, Dewey."

"Oh."

* * *

"My ideas, stupid," Freddy grumbled as he impatiently struck a match and watched the flame flicker and dance at the end of the sliver of wood. He casually flicked the match into the fireplace littered with bits of wood and watched the small flame stutter and smoke. "I'll show them whose idea's stupid. I'll show them that it _can_ be done. I'll show them."

He got to his feet, deep in thought, trying to develop a plan to prove that he could beat on a drum that was lit on fire. Then he tripped. Scowling and gingerly rubbing his elbow, Freddy glanced at his feet tin find that the toes of his right foot were caught in a binder with "School of Rock Information" written across the cover in Summer's neat handwriting.

_Hmm…Summer's book. I should get that back to her soon_, thought Freddy.

Five miles away, in the neighborhood of Deerfield, a petite brunette was ransacking her house, tearing through the cushions of her sofas and chairs, frantically rummaging through her many stacks of notebooks and binders; searching, searching, searching...

"_Argh!_" she cried in anguish. "Where is that stupid notebook?"

Meanwhile, Freddy, who was unaware that the Hathaway residence was progressively becoming a messy burrow, had cleverly developed a plan during the period when we briefly abandoned him. He was now on the phone, Summer's precious notebook—only second to the Bible, Freddy was sure—before him, open to the roadies section as he eagerly punched in the numbers to Gordon's cellular phone.

"Hello?" someone answered uncertainly.

"Hey, Gordon!"

"Freddy?"

"Hey, man, can I ask you something?"

"How…how did you get this number?"

"It was in Summer's book. Anyway, if—"

"Summer lend _you_ the _book_?"

Freddy paused, torn between sort-of-lying and lying-outright. "Er…yeah, sure, whatever. Hey, man," he quickly changed the subject, "if someone—not me, of course-wanted to, you know, light the bottom of a, uh, pan on fire and drum on it, what would that person have to do to prove to his band members that it _can_ be done?"

There was an awkward pause before Gordon sighed heavily, "Freddy."

"Yeah?" Freddy leaned forward eagerly, a pen at the ready to take the notes.

"If you're gonna ask for my help, at least _try_ to disguise it better."

Freddy let out an impatient exhale of breath, "C'mon man, you said you know a way to control it!"

"Fine, fine," Gordon relented in a resigned tone. "Just cover a barrel with that fireproof tarp that we got you on April Fool's Day—"

"And I still do not appreciate you guys mocking me and my hobbies," Freddy interrupted in a disgruntle tone.

Gordon chuckled quietly, "Well, at least your parents have stopped complaining about all the burn marks on the driveway, so I guess it worked out."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, can you help me out, here?"

"Hmmm."

"Please?"

"Okay, so you put, like, oh, maybe a tablespoon of vegetable oil on the tarp and light it. Then you put the barrel in front of the one you're gonna play on and then it'll give the illusion that you're playing on your drum, see?"

"Yeah, uh-huh," Freddy quickly scribbled the steps down, his tongue tucked between his teeth. "Okay, G, thanks, I owe you one," he said as he clicked the phone off.

"And don't forget the fire extin—!"

Freddy stared at the phone as he placed it back in its cradle. So Gordon was not really going to help him drum on fire but to just make it look it. Well, Freddy had a better idea as he crossed his room into the kitchen to scoop a large jug of vegetable oil out of the pantry. He entered the garage where his parents insisted he practice and store his drum, and sought his fireproof tarp. Alas, he could not find the gallant bit of synthetic fabric, so, instead, our brave and noble Freddy settled with a towel covered drum set and a tablespoon of vegetable oil. The poor thing never saw it coming.

* * *

"Jeez, Katie! What was that for?" Freddy, the blonde drummer, gingerly rubbed his head. Apparently, someone had whacked him upside the head with his own drumstick. 

"That," retorted the brunette bassist, "was for undermining female musicians--again."

"I didn't say anything like that!"

_Thwack_.

"Hey, watch the burn!"

Katie sighed as she wearily watched him nurse his elbow. "Do I want to know?"

Freddy smiled sheepishly. "Er..."

* * *

Well, there you have it!! I know, it took a really long time to get this one up…and about three-fourths of this chapter was written on two slushies and lots of gummy worms. And I'll admit it right now, this was more of a feel-good chapter than anything and I hope you all enjoyed it just as much as I did while writing it! 

**LiteralLovely  
Insane and Logical  
Gabwr**  
TheGoldfishAteMyCat

Thanks for reviewing!!

And now, I bid all of you farewell, may your days be bright with fire!!

Infinitely yours,  
Chikin Wang


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